Ironic

It has been impossible for me to sit down and write.  While talking about just that with our neighbor, I asked him if he'd be going to Mass on Saturday.

Right there and then it hit me:

No time for Christ, too busy with Christmas.

Hmmm...

G

How clever...!!

AOL News - Man Loses Bet by Staying Alive

The day after, and the day after that too...

Ok, the rest of the it...  (LOTS OF RAMBLING)

First of all I have tell a short story:  While waiting for my first miscarriage to take place (a few years ago), I received a call from a pastor who prayed with me.  He prayed for a miracle that the pregnancy would continue, but if it was not to be, then that the passing of the baby would be a peaceful moment for me.  Amazingly enough, it was.  It was almost beautiful how it all went down (no pun intended). 

Fast forward to recently.  We got the bad news, and my husband went out of town for 2 weeks.  I remember sort of think-praying that I would like for the miscarriage to wait until my husband returned home.  Then I forgot I had asked for this and had a miserable time waiting, until I had a flashback to my think-prayer and realized what was happening.  My husband got home on Monday morning.  That night I started having pain and contractions and the miscarriage followed when I got up at 3:30 am or so.  So my wish was granted. 

Was it peaceful?  Heck NO.  I should have asked for that too.  As a matter of fact the whole thing was horrible, I almost fainted and was throwing up and all I kept thinking was "my husband came back to this??".  Naked on the bathroom floor with pots, pans and towels all around me, how incredibly unattractive was this picture to welcome him home?  I'm amazed he's still here...

Went to the Dr.'s when we got up a few hours later.  Dr. said to rest that day and try to take some meds he gave me the next day to expell the rest of what was/is still inside me. 

But of course in my life nothing is ever easy or as it seems, and seemingly I now had a bad stomach virus I caught from our son who slept with me the night I miscarried (he had been sleeping with me because he was sick).  YES, he was asking me for a pot to puke in as things were coming out of me.  Someday I will find that very funny, as it was, indeed, good physical comedy.

I spent the day in bed and in pain, lower and upper stomach.  At 1:30am I felt oh-so-much-better, which meant the next day was time for the meds the Dr. had given me.  The sun came up, I took the pill and... "Hello contractions, again!!!"  This went on pretty much all day.  I stayed in bed.  Took the other pill and I think it all finally came out.  Maybe.  I think.  But not sure.

I was so incredibly miserable I wrote about it here and of course something went wrong and it didn't post.

The day after that (Thursday) I was thrilled to be going to my friend's house to celebrate Thanksgiving (a holiday that seems kinda strange to me) with our family.  All was great until just after dinner.  I had been drinking, I ate a bit, and my stomach started hurting like a mother...     THEN I thought I was going to faint.  Had to lie on the couch (yes at my friend's house, with her whole family looking on).  Making the story shorter: I ended up on her daughter's bathroom floor throwing up.

Eventually I re-joined the party.  But here's the kicker:  because today I was in pain again...  and again I had a flashback (to Colorado, almost a year ago) I know what's wrong:  I am starting to develop an ulcer.

I realllly can't wait for this year to end.  I've been sick over most of it and I'm tired of watching life pass me by.  But first the miscarriage has to end.  Sorry for the mental image but if I don't ever see another drop of blood I'll be more than happy.  It was all too much, too sudden and I thought it would never stop.  I couldn't get it to stop.  And like the Energizer bunny it's still going...  Men have no idea.

SO...  I'm still slightly depressed, in pain and all that.  But I'm also incredibly thankful... 

I think you all know why.

Gabriela

All I can say...

Things are funny in the virtual world... 

But I find so much solace in reading the comments left on my journal... emails... and we've never even met in person.

I cannot find the right words, except to say that it's all pure and from the heart:  THANK YOU.  And that I hope you guys too someday experience the amount of support and loving care from strangers that I've received...  I'm truly humbled.

I don't think it's appropriate for me to write about anything else here.  I'm so touched, so thankful...  I just want to leave it at that.

Wishing only the best for you huge-hearted, incredibly caring, loving people. 

You gave me a lot to be thankful for.

Gabriela

 

It's done

I had the miscarriage last night. I'm too tired, too sick, too pained to write more...

G

Brief things come to those who wait

We had it all set up.  Nora was coming in at 8am.  A friend's nanny was coming to pick the kids and Nora up at 9:30a to go to the park so my husband and I could be alone.

But this is my life and nothing works out the way I plan it.

I couldn't go to sleep due to a bad headache and nightly fever until about 3:30am.  Not long after I had finally fallen asleep my son complains of a stomach ache and throws up.  Ugh. A couple of hours later he does it again...

About 8:45 Nora calls to tell me traffic is too heavy and she'll be late, nevertheless, she does get here sometime by 9.  At 9:30 or so my husband finally arrives from his trip to the other side of the world.  We all rejoice.  Around 9:45 the nanny shows up and Clara decides to go with her after a small debate (one down, one to go!!).  Nanny tells me that she will probably have her back sometime after 4:30pm.  Oh, the glory.  It seems like after a long wait, I'll finally get some.

The plan now was to wait for our son to go to sleep again (after throwing up a 3rd time) and try running away for a little while to the local motel.

Lunchtime came around and among the many sounds around the house I hear the door.  It's Clara and she's back.  She didn't want to stay away very long... she wanted to be with us... It's now around 1pm.

After waiting forever while exchanging "those looks" with my husband, my daughter tells me that she is going to go in the hot tub.  Alleluia.  This means that she will be occupied for a good while, and our son has, believe it or not, finally gone to sleep.

I let Clara know that mommy and daddy have to go out, to get a thermometer, get some dog food and spend some time alone.  She was not very happy about this, but agreed that it was a good idea and she'd just go in the hot tub. 

We snuck out.  Because time is short and we're both quite desperate, we decide to go to the van, put the back seat down in full-size bed mode and like two teenagers, get it on.  Clara decides to go find us, because she changed her mind, is not going to splash around and notices the van is still parked outside.  And running.  Fortunately for us, we don't have that adventurous streak so the doors were locked and the blinds closed (it's a conversion van, my Disco van).  She goes back in the house, gets really pissed off at Nora (faking ignorance of language she offers no help to Clara, which only pisses her off even more), comes back ouside and knocks on the door. 

I think the uncertainty of what was going on ultimately drove her away...  Maybe a bit of fear, too.  Regardless, it didn't take us very long to consumate our marriage for the umpteenth time and go back in the house.  Disheveled and trembling ever so slightly, I walk up to her and try to convince her that daddy and I had gone for a walk and then stopped to visit the neighbor.  "But now", I continue, "I think you should go with daddy to the store".  She looked at me like I had totally and finally lost my mind in its entirety, but I just had to lie down, I was entirely too shakey.  It was similar to one of those times when you're either too drunk or too sleepy or too high to be persuasive and you can't sound convincing to save your life, and the more I tried to make sense in front of my daughter, the worse it got...  Finally I just said "Look, I already spent alone time with daddy, now it's your turn, right?"  That was good enough.  She knew sharing and taking turns, so it finally made sense.

That was the most I ever wanted something that lasted so short.  But now I hope I can go to sleep without being plagued by nutty sex dreams and wake up like a normal human being instead of a rabid cat in heat.

By the way, no fever today at all, so I think we're good.  The events from earlier must have been instrumental in getting things going as things got going and the miscarriage seems to finally have started...  Never in a million years did I think I would say this, but...

 yay...

Gabriela

 

Update

Last night was nutty.

First, I got a call from a friend of mine who said I should really keep an eye on this fever in case it went up.  Then she called to tell me her mother-in-law was a nurse and she said I should go to the Dr./Hospital immediately.  So I started making plans...  The kids can go spend the night with a neighbor, maybe another neighbor, call Nora to come help, or her sister Matty, called my husband to tell him I was going, all of it.

Then I told my friend I was going to call our Dr. to see what he thought and he pretty much begged me not to go to the ER.  He said if the fever got to 101.4 then I should call him immediately...  He would try to meet me to give me a D&C so I wouldn't have to depend on just anyone to take care of such a sensitive matter...

I felt quite badly for a while, but eventually the fever broke.  I slept as I hadn't in a few days (didn't wake up once during the night), and woke up perfectly fine...  Today I had no fever at all until the afternoon, and now it's just like last night.

So I'm waiting to see if it goes to 101.4.  Hopefully not until sometime after tomorrow morning, as the love of my life arrives at 7:30am.  Plans are already in place for the kids to dissappear from about 9:30 on.

Because between the "possible" miscarriage, then the "definite" miscarriage and what will be the "actual" miscarriage, it's just entirely too long since I've been with my husband, I'm going nuts.  Alltogether it will end up being 3 to 4 months...

Yes, the Dr. did say that having intercourse could give me an infection (if I already don't have one), but I figured I could do it, and then get a D&C.  It seems crazy/irresponsible, I know, but I'm desperately in love and the nightly dreams are killing me...!

I always thought being both a Scorpio and a Latina was a double whammy...  now, I'm at my peak??? 

Gabriela

Feel better...

I got a call from a friend of mine who told me she's leaving her husband and taking their son.  I am a believer in that you can work at falling in love/loving someone and all for the "make it work" attitude, but I just don't see it happening in this situation. 

So I've offered to help.  As a refuge, a haven, a confidant, a cheerleader...  all of the things that would facilitate her path away from the marriage...  I hate feeling like a hypocrite, but (yes I do have a big but) I feel love for my friend and want to help.  This is the only way I know how, as I know to her there is no other option... 

Gabriela

PS:  Baby is *still* not out, but I'm feeling a bit feverish...  maybe it's time to go to the Dr.

358 more shopping days 'til my birthday!!!!   :-)

Miscarriage? What miscarriage???

Today was a sobering day.

I met a British woman (another homeschooler) who was hoping to find new friends for her 7-year-old daughter, so we decided to meet and get the girls together.  This worked fantastically well, the girls got along like they had known each other forever and shared just about everything in common.  Yay.

As the mom and I were talking about our lives in general, she asked me how much was I fearful of my husband's racing.  The conversation kept evolving until she told me she herself had what she called "a close call"...  I was expecting some story about a car accident or similar, when she told me that 3 years ago she had a bout with breast cancer. 

That's when it came down like frozen water on my naked back:  The cancer had returned about a year ago, and had now moved to her bones...  She said it so matter-of-factly that I wasn't sure how to react, or even what she said, really.  She followed it with "the doctors told me I have a 10% chance to live 5 more years".

This woman is a 46-year-old single mom.  Her daughter's father is not involved in the child's life at all (he does pay child support) and would most likely never want her.  The only other person who could take the daughter if anything happened is the grandmother, who's 70 years old... 

The story continued:  She decided to stop all conventional medicine (chemo, etc.) and go the holistic way.  This hasn't made things better but it has kept the cancer from spreading, and from looking at her, one wouldn't know anything was wrong.  But the regimen of showering with Arrowhead water and having to cure her own foods is trying, to say the least.  Following her holistic routine falls nothing short of a full-time job.

Oh, and she does work part-time.  And she has no health insurance (she couldn't get any).

Faster than I could say "I'm so sorry", all that came out of my mouth was "if things turn for the worse, we can probably take your daughter"... 

That was met with a decisive "Oh, I'm not going to die, I know I'm not".  Her resolve, ironically, gave me some of the comfort I wished to give her.  Her resolve was, in essence, her strength, as she refuses to lie down.  She also said she "couldn't" die because of her daughter and thatit just wasn't going to happen.

She's all I've thought about today.  I want to pray for her fervently, I want to do something for her, to honor her courage, to honor her strength... to take the illness away...

In case anyone feels moved to pray for her as well, her name is Karen.

God bless..

Gabriela

Things that life...

"Cosas que la vida te pone adelante,

Nada que se cruze cambiara tu rumbo,

Nunca creerias que ese raro instante

Si bajaba sube, y cambia tu mundo"

Loosely translated:

"Things that life puts in front of you

Nothing that crosses will change your path,

You would have never believed that rare instant,

If it was going down, it now goes up

and it changes your world"

It's my latest favorite song... I wish everyone could hear it, and better yet, understand it...

Still waiting.  At times it seems the baby is going to come out, and then it doesn't.  Fortunately I'm surrounded by a lot of love, and I do have some amazing friendships...  Mostly old  and a couple new, life has certainly improved since we moved to California...

Yesterday I took my kids and my friend's (aka: "Toothpaste Chef" and her brother) to Target.  It was the funniest and most exhausting thing.  Her brother, though, definitely got the award for Best Lines of the night.  I especially loved it when we were discussing dinner ("My mommy says McDonald's is bad for you", "Ok, how about Burger King?" "YES, that's good!!"), and he kept saying "booger" instead of burger, but not in like "Booger King" but as in "My sister wants to eat a booger"...  "She wants cheese on her booger" and "Sometimes I like boogers, but tonight I want chichen nuggets"...  Not an easy conversation to have when you have around-the-clock morning sickness, but funny as shit nevertheless...

Another day gone by.  One less day to wait until my husband comes home...  I can't wait.  The last few months have been so incredibly wonderful between us, these are the times I wish it would last forever.  But then something happens...  "if it was down it goes up, and everything changes..." 

So I'm enjoying it fully and not thinking of anything else.  Even when I miscarry, (hopefully the reason it hasn't happened yet is because it will happen when my husband is with me) I'm sure it will be fairly peaceful.  And in my usual sick way, I want my husband to be here because I believe this should be our experience.  He missed my first miscarriage and I remember wanting him with me so badly...

I miss him, I miss him, God I miss him...  He's been gone too long and needs to come home. 

Four more days.

Gabriela

"How I spent my Birthday" - an essay...

My birthday, my birthday...

A friend of mine came over in the morning for a very nice visit on Saturday.  She had been to the Poker party the night before so we went over the funniest bits from that night..  I love talking to her and we were both just kind of vegging on the couch, which I love to do when shooting the shit with someone... 

Unfortunately when she left she didn't take her son with her and given that I had a hangover -- I wasn't too pleased, but for some reason I didn't find the right slot in our conversation to say no...  Besides, my son loves the boy and I must admit, although rambunctious, he is one of the sweetest.

Outside of the fact that it was definitely "boys vs. girl" day and I had to keep getting up to appease all 3 who were fighting, my daughter came to get me because the bathroom smelled stinky.

It smelled really, really bad.  All the way out to the hallway (of course the stink had to be in my bathroom, not in any of the 3 others, just for the sole fact that it's the one I use...  After looking around I walked towards the shower, and lo and behold, in the landing there was a huge splatter mark on the wall.  It was about 6 inches up.  I followed the sliding trail of drip that followed it towards the floor and there, in all of its disgusting glory was a big pile of doggie diarrhea.  Furthermore, the culprit had stepped in it and walked off (why do my dogs keep doing that??).

Benny.  It was Benny who had obviously eaten something he shouldn't have and quite literally his ass exploded.  Compile to that the morning sickness I'm still having and I was ready to move out.  Fortunately Nora was here and although I tried my hardest to stop her, she cleaned it all up to brand-spankin'-new.

But because my birthday wasn't truly over until midnight, the kids came frantically running to me about an hour or so after the Benny incident saying "the toilet is flooding the bathroom, the toilet is flooding the bathroom!!!"

Sure enough.  And solely because it's mine, it was happening in... my bathroom.  The water was about an inch deep and it kept coming.  The whole bathroom was covered in water, all the way to the cabinets.  My friend's son had used the farthest bathroom away possible (again, probably because it's mine) and the chain had gotten stuck (it's having problems at the moment, that's why the rule is "only Mommy can flush it") so the water kept gushing out.

I announced to the whole neighborhood that playtime was over and we needed to call it a day.  Nora and I cleaned up the water and I proceeded to call my friend, to see if she could come to pick up her son.

As she and I spoke, she told me that he should come home since they had to go to dinner at an upscale restaurant with her parents and the kids to celebrate my friend's 10th anniversary.  As I repeated this to her in that "Oh, you have plans to go to dinner... blah blah?" manner, her son quickly turned to me and with the biggest blue eyes I've ever seen looked up at me and whispered "I want to stay with you".

SUCKER.  It was then and there that I started practically begging my friend to leave him with us.  I had been such a bitch, and those eyes bought me and sold me three times over... or more.  I just couldn't resist.  I felt so bad for having been upset with the kids for something such as flushing a toilet (innocent!) that the fact that it was my birthday no longer mattered, a forgotten thought.  I wanted to hear the kids play again.

So we compromised for another 1/2 an hour of play and then he should leave.  Of course, they all started fighting again and I remembered it was indeed my birthday so it had to be this way, hectic and loud. 

I did receive a lot of phone calls and some great birthday cards in the mail, plus some gifts at the party.  But the most amazing thing was that I received more love from more people than I have in a very long time.  I used to focus mainly on the gift-receiving, but I swear I would rather have the love I felt 100 times over any gift.  I even told my husband I would rather have a killer Poker party than a nice gift.  So that's what we did... and it turned out priceless...

The day kept going as it should, with other unfortunate incidents taking place, but I'm too tired to keep writing.  Rest assured, my birthday did live up to its usual reputation, between the morning sickness and the loudness I was glad when it was over, thankful to have turned 40 and lived to tell about it.

Oh, and one more thing, any and all references to "my" stated above should really read "our" as I do share the bathroomand bedroom with my husband and we are still together...  I just thought it sounded better that way. 

Gabriela

Ow, the bells, the bells!!!

Chech out the time of this entry.

Yep, it's officially November 12th, I'm 40, and I have a headache that is similar to the deafning ringing of Cathedral bells from the distance of about an inch.

I know I've bought something like 20 bottles of Tylenol, but of course I can't find a single one.  I did find some Advil or something in the First Aid kit.  God bless the First Aid kit, because when you have a headache that wakes you up from a deep sleep with deep pain you need a good reliable friend like the First Aid kit. 

Of course, I have another good, reliable friend called my sensical consciousness which said "Shouldn't you stop drinking about now?", but as with all the fools we become when getting enhibriated I didn't think it was talking to me.  I was just happy to be able to drink and not throw up. 

I've written and re-written this, trying to find a point.  I don't think I have one.  I also took so long to write this that the bells are much smaller now, and I think I'm falling asleep.

I shall now try to get some rest.

Gabriela

Didn't *quite* make it to Disney

Went to the new Dr. today and he gave me an ultrasound from a different angle.  Seemingly, this dr. loves to give ultrasounds and is quite an expert at it, SO...

He did find some kind of growth near the baby's head.  He said he wasn't sure what it was and we may not even see it when it aborts, but that there was definitely something wrong... and no, there was no heartbeat.

In an odd way (that I am not sure I makes me feel too good about myself), I felt better.  It just seems so much harder to accept that a pregnancy is finished without a reason...  And I thought that "it's better off this way", as it could have been some horrible deformity, or worse.

I still miss the Dream Baby, and suddenly every pregnant woman in the Los Angeles area seems to be going to all the places I go to, which reallllly sucks.  Furthermore, I saw a teeny new born and that sucked too...

I'm sure I'll get over it.  I just have an aching longing to hold a newborn. 

I should probably volunteer to be a foster mom to newborns or something, maybe that will change my mind...

Who knows?  Party on...

Gabriela

ONLY 1 MORE SHOPPING DAY UNTIL MY BIRTHDAY!!!!!!!!

**We accept personal checks, Visa, Mastercard, American Express, Discover, Money Orders, Cashier's Checks, Stocks, Bonds, Black Money, Argentine Pesos, Yen, Food stamps, Some coupons, NO LIVE STOCK***

**Se habla espanol / Parlais francais, oui, oui!**

A Schmarty Party

Within a few minutes of my last doctor's visit I faced the decision of what to do about my birthday.  Would it be wrong to go ahead and celebrate, with the looming possibility of having a miscarriage during the party?

NO.  And I'm going ahead with my much-looked-forward-to Girls' Poker Party with a Poker Teacher, Full Bar and lots of Munchies (the good ones, too:  shrimp cocktail, gourmet pizzas, cheese/brie/fruit platter).  It may not be the larger 40th celebration my husband wanted to throw, but it is done very much in my style.

For starters, I'm having it the night before my actual birthday.  I want to start with a bang... not end it.  And if it starts that way, it can only get better.  Second, I'm inviting a very small group of friends (8) of which one is due to have a baby any minute, so we're not sure about her.  Oh, and the new neighbor who said she will probably only stop by for a few minutes (she's very shy).  My whole reasoning behind the small group is that I want to be able to carry ONE conversation at a time, that we can all participate in.

Since none of my these friends of mine read this blog (they don't know about it!) I can divulge the divine secrets of my partyhood:  each guest will get a personalized silver box that holds 2 decks of playing cards.  Their initials will be engraved (interlocked) in the front and when you open it, there is a silver-colored heart that is engraved as:  "Gabriela's 40th, November 12, 2005".  Attached to that there will be chocolate cigars and since I will be wearing a tiara, the winner of the night will get a tiara as well and the loser will get a ring that's a little tiara.

I might get some other things too, as doing this so far has been great fun...!  Maybe those "Cool, Wild and Swingin'" CDs or the "Ultra Lounge" one, but then again I'm the music nut, not sure they would appreciate Dean, Frank, Bobby as much as I do.

Oh, and did I mention that I also requested we have a hunky server??  And no, no strippers.  The idea of a hunky server is much more appealing to me.  Originally, I thought that it would be so cool to have a server for each guest, like their own personalized one, to give masagges, foot rubs...  but I think that not only would it get costly, it would also overcrowd the room and I'm not sure the atmosphere would be the same, surrounded by testosterone...

Gabriela

**ONLY 2 1/2 MORE SHOPPING DAYS UNTIL MY BIRTHDAY**

** we accept checks, visa, mastercard, american express, discover -- se habla espanol **

Call me simple, call me a masochist, a drama queen, even stupid... 

But nothing has happened for the last 2 days, no spotting, no cramping... nothing.

And today my mind finally went on a holiday and started thinking that maybe the ultrasound machine froze when it caught an image of the baby, that's why the heartbeat didn't show up.  Maybe it's true!  A fluke, a miracle, one of those stories you hear from some strange-name country in eastern Europe or Asia where an embryo with no heartbeat came back to life.  The one that has all the doctors baffled, that all the media go crazy over... 

I've never personally heard of a story equal to this, but I have heard some other crazy stuff.

Would they call him the "miracle baby" or "miracle embryo?".  Would Good Morning America and all the talk shows want to see me, to do live ultrasounds...

That would be quite awful.

But if it does happen... how will I react when I hear the news?  I wonder if it is true and there actually was a heartbeat all along and in 6 months or less I will have the baby I saw in the dream...

Ok, time to stop thinking about it.  Time to stop wondering why nothing's happening, thinking that he just doesn't want to leave me because we bonded.  I must stop feeling so dreamy about it, feeling like a little girl, naive and looking for the fairy tale ending. 

Or maybe I should go to Disney World.

 

The good dream that was bad

I was doing quite well yesterday.  I was doing quite well this morning, too...  

And before I woke up I was having a wonderful dream...

The baby started coming out of me, and it was actually four separate babies.  They were each at a different stage of growth, with the last one being the biggest.  They were all in bubbles, and I was to be extremely careful the bubbles didn't tear because I had to get them to the Hospital.  This was impossible to do, so I kept scooping up the embryos, trying to save as much as I could. 

The last one, the one I understood to be the one I'm actually carrying, was still in his bubble and he was alive...  I looked at him and he opened his eyes, which were crystal blue like my husband's, and he slowly turned his eyes to me.  I remember thinking "maybe I can put him back in and the pregnancy will continue".  Then I smiled at him and he smiled back.  We were bonding.  I could even put my ear to the "bubble" and if I made a loud noise he would answer in that baby squealy voice.  Someone else was with me, I think my husband, and I kept trying to turn the baby within the bubble so he could see his amazing eyes...  We were able to play with him the smiling game, where we would smile, nod our heads to him and he would smile/laugh.

I immediately felt so close to him, this was my baby.  An hour or so after I woke up I longed to go back to sleep so I could see him again.  I missed him terribly and wanted to give him all the love I had been saving for the birth.  It was then I wanted to cry and realized I am not as strong as I thought.   This miscarriage will be a lot harder than my first.  I think it's because now that I've had children, I fully realize their worth, immeasurable and eternal.  I feel bonded to the little thing inside me, and a horrible longing to hold  the ultimate baby that won't be...  At my breaking point the phone rang.  It was one of my best friends in the world, Namratha.  It's still amazing to me how those certain special people in your life know exactly when to call you...  

I'm just going to have to speak to my husband.  I'm going to have to plea my case that I really *do* want another baby... that in my heart of hearts, when I don't let outside matters clutter my brain, having children with him is all I ever really wanted.  

Gabriela

News is bad news

I saw a very small cause for alarm yesterday, so I called my Dr. immediately and went for an ultrasound this morning.

The baby no longer has a heartbeat.

All I have to do now is wait for everything to abort naturally.

I cried hard while at the doctor's but haven't cried since.

That's about all.

Gabriela

Future Iron Chefs of America

Ok, so I watched the stupid Grammys and Kevin Johansen was nowhere.  He didn't win his category either.  I think it was one of those where they only announce certain categories' winners, not all the contenders.

Anyway, today was insane and kind of fun, as always.  There were way too many kids here, but I didn't really feel like dealing with them, so I figured I would let them put together the Halloween gingerbread house that Peyton had brought over.  "As long as Peyton can read the instructions", I thought "they should be ok.  And I'm within earshot if anything should go awry."

In their haste to get things going, the girls put way too much water in the frosting mix, not bothering to get the teaspoon that the recipe called for.  I told them that it was ok, I could probably try to fix it with some flour later. 

As with most children, neither of them trusted what I said and Peyton continued and re-read the instructions to see what else needed to be done.  Since they were mixing and seemed happy I tuned out.

"Toothpaste, we need toothpaste!!", one said, followed by a choir of "yes, toothpaste!!".  I tought they were just being silly/funny, that it was some crazy idea most likely Jackie had come up with.  I told them they didn't need it, laughed and said "you guys are goofy!".

After realizing that the time spent on the mixture of the frosting was longer than it should be, I jumped in.  I started slowly pouring flower into the mix and making it thicker, but I had to use so much flour to make it the right consistency that I decided to have a taste to see how bad it was.

It tasted minty fresh.

Seemingly, Peyton can read, and very well (her mother is a writer and a teaching nut) but was unable to make out what "consistency of" was or meant.  So she took "toothpaste" and assumed that's what the recipe called for.  Following orders, Jackie had snuck into one of the bathrooms and moments later had squeezed about half of the tube into both the black and orange mixes.

To end this tale, all of the pieces that were once to be a magnificent gingerbread house but wouldn't stick together are now in the trash.  I don't think the kids even noticed.  They had abandoned ship long ago and were probably somewhere hiding, sneaking, eating their Halloween loot.

Gabriela

Eight more shopping days 'til my birthday!!!

**Personal checks accepted**  **We take Mastercard, Visa, American Express** **Se Habla Español**

:-P

Diamonds are a girl's best friend

...but a Mercedes isn't a bad pal, either.  My *wonderful* husband is getting me one of the new Mercedes station wagon, the one with 3 rows of seats.  Yay!!  I had wanted a Prius realllllly bad, but I fear we won't have enough room for all of us w/baby and all the gear.  Ok, he's not buying it, but we're leasing one for 3 years.  The deal is just too good to pass up.  So...

The 3 rows are great, so we are able to take the kids and a couple of friends too, plus it has this amazing panoramic moon roof and all these other cool things...  I'm really happy about it.  My husband did point out that this is the first time that my car will actually be nicer than his.

Patiently waiting 'til Monday,

G

No news *is* good news!!

I haven't written, I know, and I should have.  We went for the ultrasound and the baby's heartbeat was strong and everything looked good.  All they found that could have caused the spotting was a cyst.  And judging by the amount of all-day morning sickness I've had, the pregnancy is going strong.  Although the ultrasound was one of those regular non-3-dimensional marvels, I was amazed at one point to be able to see the heartbeat not as a flickering single light but more like 2 pumping ones, right-left-right-left.  *And* we saw the baby move.  I'm so excited.

I'm off my bed rest but trying to be careful regardless, as because of my age (turning 40, remember?) and the cyst, my dr. says I'm a little high risk.  Either that or she just wants to make sure I won't run off to Indiana to have this child...

Ok, I'm watching the Latin Grammys so I can catch a glimpse of Kevin Johansen.  I don't think he'll be performing, but you never know, so I'm stuck.

Later,

G

 

No news is good news??

My tests were due back today, but I never heard from the Dr....  When I called I was informed that she only calls if the tests show something's wrong.

Ok, I think that that in itself is wrong...  Shouldn't she call at least to let me know everything's good?  Sheeesh...  Am I missing my Dr. in Indiana.  It's so hard to imagine giving birth without him, after all I started seeing him when I was still single.  Maybe I should deliver in Indiana?  Then all the kids will be Hoosiers...

The Dr. moved the ultrasound to this coming Monday.  I can't  wait!  I hope it's twins!!

HAHAHAHAHAHAHA

G

A really great quote

From St. Francis of Assisi:

"Preach the Gospel, and if you must, use words"

G

A really gross miracle

I know, I know, sounds sacrilegious, right?

It took me a long time to get pregnant with my first child, and as I've mentioned before, my first pregnancy miscarried.  So by the time I was pregnant the full term it really had become a miracle... the more I learned about what it took to make a baby the more miraculous it became.

But now comes the part not suited for those who gross out easily, or those who have the notion that certain things should not be talked about, especially by the gender known as "lady".

Of all the things I'd heard about pregnancy, I clearly hadn't listened closely enough, concentrating only on the actual development of the fetus.  So the following came as such a surprise to me when I was barely 8 weeks pregnant:  As I stood on the doorway above the kitchen steps I felt a tickle in my throat.  I coughed.  Squirt.  "What the???"  I had peed my pants, ever so slightly, but nevertheless shocking...

I didn't know this sort of thing could start so early in the pregnancy.  I figured the weight of the baby in the later months would push on the bladder, but not so.

Morning sickness began early as well.  Around 7 weeks, and it remained with me the whole pregnancy.  "Chicken" was a word that the mere mention of could send me into uncontrollable dry-heaving, so chicken was completely forbidden in our household, both the word and the bird.

Pregnancy mask:  I got that as well.  I had a "shadow" moustache, some other stuff between my eyebrows (very attractive) so I felt I was channeling Frida Kahlo.  Furthermore, I had a funny dark line that went all the way down my stomach, even my belly-button was dark.  What's worse?  My nipples grew to the size of small plates and got so dark it was impossible to believe, so much so that my own mother was startled by seeing me get out of the shower.  Actually she looked frightened more than startled.  My own mother!  Nice.

Constipation was another problem.  I even had what I call "Constipated Diarrhea" which, hard to believe, wouldn't come out at all only to just comeoutallatonce at an inopportune time.  I got really good at convincing store clerks to let me borrow the restroom the either "didn't have" or was "out of order."

But the culmination of all grossness was what my husband had to endure one night.  I was already quite pregnant, my breasts had a life of their own along with their own zip code, but not in a sexy way by any means.  They were grotesque.

This particular night I was sitting on the bed and started coughing.  The coughing prompted me to gag and start dry-heaving.  The dry-heaving made me lose my bladder.  Oh! and since along with the constipation, you can always get gas, that started up too.  I was throwing up, farting and peeing all at the same time.  That had to be the most humiliating thing I ever been through.  It was sad to look at my husband and see the disgusted-yet-priceless look on his face as he (I'm sure) wondered whatever happened to the "Hawaiian Tropic" girl he'd married, all skinny, with all the makeup and beautiful hair...

Fortunately I never got stretch marks (that's one thing), but my back was always hurting, my belly itched, I was tired, uncomfortable and to top it off I thought I was queen of the world.

There were more complaints, to be sure, but the thought was to maybe one day write a book about the real side of pregnancy...  The one that prepares you to completely surrender yourself as if you'd been abducted by sadistic aliens who also (by the way I didn't mention this yet) enjoy planting strange little hairs all over your breasts.

Bracing myself,

Gabriela

I love L.A. (Randy Newman)

Driving down Sunset to the Dr.'s today...

"...From the south bay to the valley
From the west side to the east side
Everybody’s very happy
’cause the sun is shining all the time
Looks like another perfect day

I love l.a. (we love it)
I love l.a. (we love it)

Look at that mountain
Look at that tree
Look at that bum over there, man
He’s down on his knees
Look at these women
There ain’t nothin’ like em nowhere

Century boulevard (we love it)
Victory boulevard (we love it)
Santa monica boulevard (we love it)
Sixth street (we love it, we love it)

I love l.a...."

G

The Diva

Our daughter was given a guitar on her birthday, just as she asked.  Ever since then, she's been belting out these ballads that she herself "writes" all while strumming out-of-tune notes on the strings of her tortured guitar.

Her songs are wonderful.  Mostly about love, rainbows, being happy and well, more love.  I've been unsuccessful in trying to record it, but I really need to.  It's one of the most enternaining things we've heard in a long time.  My husband and I try to sneak up when she sings just for some hearty (and contained) giggles, which for some reason, it's such a cool thing to do with your mate.

So yesterday, our son saw a commercial for some toy that teaches kids to sing.  I didn't see it, so I have no idea what it is, but he was so excited to tell his sister all about it.  He started screaming for her, telling her how she could learn to sing.

"Why would I do that?" she said with annoyance and sarcasm in her voice, "I already know how to sing!!"

G

Feeling needy

Husband left today until Friday.  I really miss him already.  I'm scared and sad about my predicament and he's not here and I just need him.

It still amazes me how much he means to me.  He is the most influential person in my life, my rock, my rest, my shelter, my too-many-things-to-list, my love.

Tomorrow I have a Ob/Gyn appointment to run tests to see if I could have some sort of an infection.  Nothing's changed much, and I feel crampy all over.  Everytime I cough or sneeze my lower stomach muscles cramp really bad, I hope I remember to tell the dr. this...

That's probably why I'm feeling so needy.  I really do not want to go to the dr. alone, just in case.  And since my man will be in Europe, getting a hold of him will be more difficult...  Oh, well...  I better stop thinking about this and whatever happens, happens.

G

 

God giveth...

I'm on bed rest.

My first pregnancy ended in miscarriage.  It lasted an entire week and the pain increased with every passing hour.  My second pregnancy seemed to be heading down that same path at exactly the same time as the first one, so my dr. said "bed rest until you reach 12 weeks".  Lo and behold, our daughter was born healthy and HUGE 7 months later...

Now we're back to the same problem, I started spotting (just like before, and at the same time) and I'm on bed rest. 

The dr. has given me progesterone, which I just started tonight...  So whatever happens...

I wish I could say more, be insightful, deep, philosophical...  but at this point my only thought is to keep this baby inside me for another 7 months.  I'm dreading another miscarriage, especially a week-long one.  However, as much as having morning sickness all day is some torture, I've been told it's a good sign of a healthy pregnancy. 

I know I haven't advertised lately, but my 40th is just around the corner and I would love to have 2 reasons to celebrate.

G

 

For those of you interested...

I've been reading this blog, which I thoroughly enjoy.  It deals mostly with the connection between mental health/psychiatry and social issues/society.  To get there: 

THOUGHTS From the HEADoc: A perspective from within the intriguing world of PSYCHIATRY

Gabriela

I'm Bi !!!!

I started back on medicine a couple of weeks back, thus ending the latest "let's try the natural way" episode, making me realize for the umpteenth time that I really do need conventional medicine.  Although I still feel far from finding the right one.

I was finally diagnosed...  Bipolar 2 (how many are there?).  Along with my diagnosis, the psych diagnosed almost my entire family, based on their characters.  I was fairly impressed by this, as he really seemed to hit the nail on the head everytime.  The fact that he's been in psychiatry since the 50's helps my confidence in him, I just hope it sticks...

Anyway...  I'm back on Zoloft, something I tried a few years ago and did the job for about a year.  The Dr. said that if I liked it then, it should help now, even if just for a short while.  Then we can switch if it stops working, which doesn't sound too appealing, considering the lows I go through everytime I switch meds.  But yet I've been so desperate to get back on track, I'll take whatever!

So last night I couldn't sleep worth a shit.  I tried to nap today and it's the same, I yawn, I feel exhausted, I lie down and... nothing.  It's my body trying to get used to the medicine.

On other news, the Swedes are still here.  Last night we celebrated my mother-in-law's birthday at Gladstone's and it was wonderful.  Everyone was happy, and even I got a little gift for my impending 40TH BIRTHDAY.

Ah! that reminds me...

Only 38 more shopping days 'til my birthday!!!!!!!!!!!!

Gabriela

Barely... but THERE

I have no other way to say this...  No clever set-up, no big fireworks...

I just got the results: 

I'M PREGNANT.  Definitely.

Barely pregnant, like 5 weeks...  I suppose I'm due at the end of May or beginning of June.

Of course it happened just as I was thinking that another baby was probably not such a great idea after all...  but, God and His sense of humor!!

Regardless, I told my husband that's what he gets for marrying a latino...   :-)

Gabriela

The BIGGEST Fair In The World

Last night we went to the L.A. County Fair.  The incredible firefighters put out the fires, the smoke was gone, so we waited for the heat of the day to die down and off we went.  All 9 of us.

We've all been to many different County Fairs before, BUT...  this has to be the Largest County Fair In The World.  We were so exhausted and overwhelmed that we didn't even do that much, except walk, of course.  Ok, so we did eat crap and fell prey to one of those "I'll give you a practice shot" games for $5/a piece.  We played enough so all 3 little ones (Clara had a friend) could get a toy each and I must say that the puppies they got are very cute.  The kids also went on some of the rides and the dads ran off to the freestyle motorcross thing, so everyone did their own thing and had fun. 

Getting to the Biggest Fair In The World took us about an hour.  Getting back from the Biggest Fair In The World took another hour.  Getting from the entrance of the Biggest Fair In The World to anywhere else in the the Biggest Fair In The World took about an hour, too.  And since our big thing (or at least mine) was to go pet the farm animals first, it was an easy two hours before we started playing games, going on rides, etc.  Which, given that each ride is anywhere from $3 to $6 and they last all of a minute, the walking made the time = money spent ratio seem much better than if we had been able to really spend our time enjoying ourselves instead of walking so much.  Make sense?  It did to me.

Oh, and another cool thing.  As we pulled up to the Biggest Fair In The World there was a choice of parking:  General, Better-than-General, Preferred and VIP, each being $8, $10, $12 and $15 respectively.  Or something like that.  Anyway, this being the place that it is, VIP was sold out, of course, so we parked in Preferred.

I won't even go into how crazy the food prices are.  But they did have turkey leg stands so we were all happy.  It was great seeing the happy faces of the kids when they heard the term "turkey leg" I even think Clara did some kind of a "happy dance"...  frightening but true.

Anyway, that's all I remember for now...  and I have to get back to the family.

 

Supersonic Time

My mother-in-law, sister-in-law, her husband and our nephew are visiting from Sweden.  It's been so long since I saw the last three that they hadn't even met our 5 year old...  Time really flies anymore.

I remember when I was little, the days seemed to last forever (especially during school).  The answer to "when is my birthday again, Mom?" was always followed by a stretch of time I could only describe as eternal.  Back then I lived each season to the fullest, every month had its own personality, even every week brought something new.

As I got older, school dictated the passage of time, mostly measured by tests and the efforts to pass each one... barely.  Cramming for exams only to figure out afterwards how much freedom I had left until the next one.  Then it would be summer.  But the seasons were still evident.

At some point I stopped living from week-to-week, month-to-month, test to test and started living season-to-season.  During those years it was mostly because of the importance I put on what I would wear according to what time of year it was...

All too soon, I met my husband and when time really started to claim its worth my life turned into living from "no racing" to "beginning of racing season" to the fast approaching "end of the racing season".

Even sooner than that I found myself living from "hot time of the year" to "cold time of the year" solely because in Indiana you really had to be prepared for either, as I learned that hard lesson my first winter there.

So I ask myself... where do I go from here?  How much shorter will the measurement of time periods get??  Maybe from odd to even years???

It's that time of the month again... when I wonder if I'm pregnant or not.  But there is one thought that keeps turning in my head:  with time flying as it has been, how long will 9 months really be??   

And that's when I feel completely unprepared... 

Phoenix

We've been in Phoenix, AZ since Thursday.  It's so incredibly hot here that the race my husband's driving in is (fortunately) at night.  At 7pm tonight, to be exact.

The kids and I are at the hotel, as Clara can't get enough of the pool, but I'm going to have to somehow convince them that going to the racetrack now is going to be so much more fun than splashing around.  Ugh.

The dogs stayed at home.  Nora has been going there to let them out, feed them, etc. as well as being there all day yesterday helping clean the house.  On Thrusday, though, no sooner had we just pulled up to the hotel, that our neighbor called to tell me that 2 of our dogs (Malachi and Carmela) were at her house visiting, along with another neighbor's dog (???).  I figured someone must have left the gates open.  But when our neighbor decided the dog party was over and graciously walked every one of them home, our shepherd (Malachi) was already inside and the gate was closed.

It's almost like Toy Story, how the toys come alive when humans aren't around.  Maybe our pets have everything totally figured out and only act stupid when we're there...  maybe they get high or drunk when we're out.  Maybe they can cook gourmet meals and they watch CNN.

Maybe the next time we leave town I'll leave a couple of brooms and the vacuum out and see what happens...

 

PS:  It's so nice being at a race as a family again...  I wish we could do so more often.

the longest break

Man, it really has been forever since I last wrote.  Here I am again, or at least for the duration of this writing...

I've been sick for about a month.  I had a cold, then a cough and it's been with me ever since.  I don't think it will *ever* go away.  I've tried anitbiotics, allergy medicine, massage therapy, ignoring it and it's still as much there as day one...  sigh...

I stopped taking all meds.  I only take one to get me going in the morning, although sometimes it doesn't work (it's something that is given to narcoleptics).  I've also been to a nutritional dr. ("doctor" being loosely used title), whom I really liked and he seemed to hit the nail on the head a couple of times.  So after a lot of talking, we paid for the consult and only half of the supplements they suggested (I'm just not sure I was confident enough to plonker down over $1000 to "try" new methods so we went with the basics) and I've been taking these lately.  I think they are working somewhat...

So nothing funny/weird/off-the-wall/out-of-the-blue to post today, on my very pityful "comeback" day. 

I just wanted to try writing again.

Nevermind, here is one:  Today we went into a Lucky store and as I stood there looking at their corduroy pants very close to a mirror, my daughter informed me that one of her friends has some pants that "make her butt do this" and she promptly stuck her bootie up and out.  All the while she was looking in the mirror.  Wow.

There was more stuff said after that.  Something about "her mom has a pair too" but I was so gone I don't quite remember, plus I think she wasn't even sure she got all the facts right.

Since I have no behind, I immediately wanted to ask her where I could find some pants like that.  Then I remembered she's barely 7 years old and probably wouldn't know how to get to the store that sold them...!!

Actually no, I was as shocked as the next person and somehow in my infinite motherly wisdom I figured out a way for us to finish the conversation and leaving it, as best we could, in a way that all is now well with the universe once again.

Alas, a mental note has been duly made.

Please go here if you haven't yet

http://hometown.aol.com/_dyn/

This is about the ONE campaign.  I really believe it's worth while...

Suicidal Pets

There is a psychological epidemic that seems to be silently sweeping pet nation, and one that I am starting to really suspect.  Why haven't I read any reports of this yet, are the pet stores aware of this and keeping the information from the general public???

Last year sometime, my son got a fish named Walkie.  He seemed to really care about this cold, slimy little thing and I'm convinced Walkie knew and loved ME very much instead, as he always seemed to get excited to see me -- even if I was just walking past.  Anyway, we went on a trip out of town for just a few days, and when I came back I saw a really dark piece of what seemed like beef jerky lying on the carpet.  But no, it was Walky.  He had jumped out of his bowl during our absence...  Maybe he wanted to go with us?  (I did quickly replace Walkie without saying a thing to our kids, so as far as I know, the Walkie now is the only Walkie we ever had.  And don't anyone ruin that.

Then, just a few days ago, my daughter put her "Little Maria" mouse down on the table to she could get the other mouse (a not-so-smart move I had no idea my daughter had been practicing)  and Little Maria jumped off.  The next day, Little Maria had expired.  This was actually quite sad for our daughter, as we are not allowed to even mention Little Maria's death around our house.

And today, I get up to say good morning to our parakeet.  You guessed it, it's dead too.  Seemingly this bird, in some attempt at a poorly-calculated protest, emptied out his entire food bowl (it's all at the bottom of its cage) as soon as I put it down.  I didn't check on him yesterday, but I could hear him (he sounded fine) and said hi to him from far away.  So I don't know how long birds last without food, but his protest-through-fasting was successful for about 2 days.

Where are all the pet psychologists when you need them??

Help for my friend!

Looking for responsible person flying from Los Angeles, Encino or Burbank airports to Indianapolis, IN, preferably on a constant basis such as a flight attendant.  Trustworthy and able to resist temptation, person must be able to carry a package of the size and aroma of an In-N-Out burger.

Inquiries, please post here.

Thank you.

 

And the answer is...

...Conrad Aiken when he thought he was dying he told his wife "Give my love to the world", the dramatic flair of which she found amusing... he didn't die that time.  She liked it so much, the phrase now resides on her tombstone at the Bonaventure Cemetery, the same cemetery that "Midnight In The Garden of Good and Evil" centered around... 

And no, I'm not an intellectual, I just become obsessed with topics that interest me and I research them to death.  This happened with Savannah, GA after reading the book Midnight In The Garden Of Good And Evil.   I love true stories.  I become engulfed in the experience...

Another very interesting story is the one about a Philipino lady named Teresita...  According to court records, her spirit came back to avenge her death and catch the man who had robbed and murdered her.  I first saw it in a TV movie called "A Voice From The Grave", so then I bought the book.  I can't remember the name of it, but it all happened in the '70s.  The most interesting part is that the man, who was probably going to get off because of circumstancial evidence, ended up confessing to the entire crime.  Those involved believe that Teresita's spirit appeared to him and scared him shitless... 

I already told my husband that if I die before him, he better never re-marry or I'll haunt his evey waking moment...

 

There are only 161 shopping days left until my birthday!!!!!

Sometimes it takes me a while...

Today I saw my kids get excited for the umpteenth time about buying all sorts of purpley, confetti-sprinkled, pink-and-shiny, star-doused, magic, rolling-twisty snacks...  And it wasn't until we were at home, relaxing after dinner that I realized:  they are being entertained by the foods (loosely termed) they eat.      Food as entertainment??  Sheesh... no wonder there is an obesity problem in the U.S.   I have been soooo guilty of supporting this way of thinking... and I have only now figured it out..????   Good grief!

RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRandom

Onto other (albeit random) things: 

I think school is out.  The husband and I might join Billy Blanks' workout place kind of around the corner.  We keep threatening to and one of these days by golly we'll do it.  I think summer's here.  I really don't like the valley as much as the other side of the hill, but someone had a semi-valid argument:  if the summers in the valley are hotter, the winters are not as harsh...  Does anyone know the answer to this? 

I think I could be pregnant again.  Oooooh, that's a big one.  I hope I am, not only because I would looooooove another child, but because if I don't get pregnant soon, I'll continue to adopt critters...  just like I almost adopted a cat yesterday (in my mind) until the little son-of-a-pussycat scratched my hand while we tried to rescue it from the engine compartment of one the cars.  I'm a dog person anyway...  

I think we've solved the permanent "boxes everywhere" problem.  Hurray for storage units!!!

Man... I really hope I'm pregnant...

I would be so happy if I was that I would even be willing to quit the:

 

There are only 164 shopping days left until my birthday!!!!!

 

Really.

Fever, in the morning... Fever, all through the night...

I don't really know what is going on, but for the past few weeks I feel as if I had a fever...  all the symptoms:  my muscles ache, my ears are zooming, and I feel I'm boiling.  But here is the funny part:  sometimes I actually do have a temperature, and sometimes I don't -- yet I feel the same pretty much all day long...

It could be stress-related, or maybe I'm dying.  If that's the case then "give my love to the world" in the famous words of... does anyone know??  Here is a hint for those who love Google as much as I do:  You had to have walked through the Bonaventure Cemetery in Savannah, GA.

 

 

I found Dave Barry's Blog

If anyone is interested...

http://weblog.herald.com/column/davebarry/

There's a temporary homeless girl wandering in Santa Monica asking people to help her because her wallet was stolen.  The first night we saw her (we didn't give her anything) I told her that she shouldn't be begging on the Third St. Promenade as the places there to eat were too expensive and she could eat more somewhere like McDonald's. 

We saw her again two nights later, but now she had the cutest little chihuahua which she said she purchased a week ago for $350.  IN LONG BEACH.  Because her story gets more convoluted every time I ask a new question, I thought I'd get right to the point:  Would it be unethical if the next time we saw her we offered her the money necessary for her hostel or maybe a little more in exchange for the dog??

Gabriela

Too busy to pee

and too busy to write... HOWEVER...

there

 

are

 

only

 

172 shopping days left until my birthday!

 

 

I'm just a typical braggy sort of mom...

THIS POST WAS WRITTEN ON 5/1

I haven't written anything in my blog in almost 3 weeks...  Strange, since my mind's been as active as if I had.  What I mean to say is, I've been on a thought pattern that is so reminiscent of when I decide to write or when I get into a one-way conversation with my husband (who, thankfully, recognizes these times).

It's a shame, really, because I had *loads* of things to write about. 

Ah!  Yes.  Just when I thought it was safe to go back to being a disciplinarian, my son outdid himself yet again.  As of the last report, he had said to me "my mommy is my dream" when I asked him if he'd had "sweet dreams" the night before.  I have now been elevated to crazy levels of perfection:  he claimed in an impromptu song that (among his heart, his dream, his soul) I was his Holy Mary. 

I felt a rush of "we must correct this right away" rising towards my brain, but no.  I didn't.  Guilty as I may be of allowing myself to be so glorified, I shamelessly and selfishly let the moment pass, all the while noticing the triumphant look on his little face knowing, that yet again he had won and sold me over a million times.

Unfortunately, the next day I found him spraying the dog right after I had told him not to do that sort of thing (it's still too cool at night), so his new Game Boy got taken away for a week.  Well, it was actually more like 3 days, but he made up for it somehow.  I think.

So as not to make this journal "starring Mr. Charm", I have to say that our daughter has her moments of awesomeness too...  Hers are just different.  Although not the charmer, she does turn it on in a blatant way, to the point where we both get the giggles and this sort of bonding amazes me...  her sense of humor is so much older than her 6 years. 

 

176 more shopping days until my birthday

Writing ramblings

I used to hate to write.  Almost as much as I hate to hear my voice on an answering machine.  But I think that age, marriage, and children have changed that.  These things (especially motherhood) have helped me find what I can call "my voice" and it seems to come from the same place as where Pavarotti gets his when onstage...  when it's good it comes from deep within, and on its way back up from in you it drags up with it all these feelings you kept inside...

It's so rewarding to write something that touches a nerve or an emotion within yourself.  And although "My Father's Shoes" lingered at the top of that emotional pit, I didn't have the heart nor the knowledge necessary to dive in.  And to be more "practically" honest, there just isn't enough peace and quiet around here to sit and write for long periods of time...

So my apologies (to me, you, anyone who reads this) for the rambling, emotional piece than never quite was.

My father's shoes

What happened to me on Monday was so intense, I couldn't even think about writing about it until today....  late today, as you can see...

As with most things that are unexpected, it all started innocently enough:  "Hey, Baby, check out these shoes I just bought".  No big deal.  My husband bought new shoes and he wanted me to see them. 

So I went to our bedroom to have a look.

There, being showcased by my husband's hands were the cause of something unexpected:  My father's shoes.

This was not a joke, and it isn't one now.  But just as I saw them for the last time about 27 years ago, under a spotlight of emotion were shoes so incredibly identical to the ones my father wore they took my breath away.

I quickly buried my face into my husband's chest.  I wanted to run away.  I couldn't even describe what I was feeling, what I had seen, or how I'd seen it, but I had seen my father.  More and worse than that, I felt him.  Within a hundreth of a second I felt his impending prescence, what it felt like, that childlike joy I had felt so long ago knowing he would come home after he'd been working, being in a room where he could possibly be or would be in; morphed into the present possibility of him still being alive...  back from the dead...??

It didn't help me not to see his body after he passed away, although it was something my mother thought she would shield me from when I was 12.  She didn't want that last impression of his lifeless face etched in my mind.  But now it is something that has left my life peppered with dreams of him still being alive, as recent as a few months ago.  That recurring dream in which my family confesses to knowing he was still alive and in hiding for most of my life, in a place he moved away to so as not to hurt us anymore. 

The shoes were still there, but I couldn't even look at them.  When I did, I noticed that they even had that little right-to-left hairline crease from having been walked in, which made it all seem even more real.  These shoes were the one design I ever saw my father wear, in black, brown, shinier or matte and when once they gave me a certain comfort, they were now enough reason for me to want to run away.  Hard as I tried, I couldn't look at them anymore, I haven't even looked at them since.

I love those shoes.  As a matter of fact they have always been my favorite design, for obvious reasons... but they now became a new, albeit small lesson on life: 

There are times when you cannot face something you love because you just love it too much.

Huh??

Excerpts from a Brad Pitt interview by GQ (all from the same interview, same time, same month, etc.):

"The idea that marriage has to be for all time -- that I don't understand."

Followed by:

"...acting, a career he would readily toss because 'truthfully, I'm interested in other things. Like family.'"

Right... because family is compiled by me, kids, some other grown-up but not for all time...  So maybe just me and some kids... or just one...  maybe a disposable wife?  Wait, are kids for all time too??  Shit!  I didn't know that!!!!

Big Momma Day

For Mother's Day today I got one of my "First Time Evers":  I got breakfast in bed made and served by none other than our 6-year-old daughter, or "Little C" (see?  it just doesn't work).

Her daddy talked to her last night (he's traveling) and told her to do the J family traditional Breakfast In Bed, which I thought was amazing.  I got 2 slices of bread with Peanut Butter & Jelly and a glass of milk. 

She's just so cute.  She even heated the bread in the microwave because, according to her, "it was cold because it was in the refrigerator, Mommy". 

Here is the detailed story (and so very much my kind of story):  The bread she gave me was rice bread, which doesn't have either the consistency nor the flavor of the bread you would want with your PB&J.  The milk was soy milk, which I like but have susbtantial reason to believe that I am allergic to it.

I did down the hot bread with the hard edges and took a tiny sip of the milk ("Mommy, it's your favorite!!") and dwelled in the feeling.  She really truly is the best.  I pictured her tiny hands trying to grasp the big bottle of 8th Continent and her mouth twisting as she tried to pour the soy milk into the glass all the way to the top, just like I like it.  Then walking diligently to the microwave, after carefully separating the rice bread slices, taking notice not to heat the bread with the PB&J on it, but the bread alone... hitting the number "1" on the micro-oven, waiting patiently... I could continue forever, just dwelling, imagining...

When she reached my bedside she announced the event and then apologized for the tray replacement (a round cork hot-plate thingy), because the real tray was too high up.

Oh... the gift itself reached me by way of email.  It was a gift certificate for a new pair of my favorite shoes (Ferragamo's "Audrey").  But (to steal from American Express commercials), the truly "priceless" part was what my imagination gave to my mind:  A picture of my husband working overtime in front of his computer to produce a PowerPoint document weighing in at 2+ megabytes, featuring a photo of the kids, with a "value not to exceed $00.00" on the bottom (a mistake, I think!), and printing at the small size of 1/3 of a letterpage...  It made me fall in love all over again. 

TRULY, really, truly:   When someone gives you their time, their thought, their love in this way, the tangible gift itself becomes unimportant.  And nothing else, ever, can make you feel loved in the same way as this.  After all, time, love and thought themselves are things that one can't buy.  Or ever take back.

Should I worry??

I know I've been fairly liberal about posting our names, pics and such on this journal...  so I'm wondering if I should stop doing so.  Go back and change it all?

I never felt paranoid enough to do that, as a matter of fact.  I felt it would seem strange to call my family things such as "Little C" or "The Hub" or "Little One", because so many friends of mine who know my family read this journal and it would seem odd to them as well...

If there are any reasons for me to worry about writing in the way I have been that I'm not aware of, please someone let me know the risks involved.

Otherwise I could make this journal private, I suppose.  But I would gladly invite anyone already reading my insane ramblings...

Gotta give them this one...

I read this online today.  I do not know its author or where I even found it.  All I can say is that this is the one where men are... how do I say it... how to get it out...  hhmmmpppffff....  what can I say..?  I can't even get myself to articulate it  --  yet I feel compelled to give credit where credit is due:

"Women will never be equal to men until they can walk down the street with a bald head and a beer gut, and still think they are sexy."

:-)

187 more shopping days until my birthday!

I should borrow money from the homeless...

I don't think I told this story in recent times... so here it goes.

I went into a Johnny Rockets (in Beverly Hills) when I lived in L.A. the last time to get something to eat.  At the counter and in front of me there was a man that was clearly homeless and stinky.  He was filthy and hairy and all that stuff typical of homelessness...  so you can get a mental picture which I recommend.

My curiosity piqued and I couldn't resist to look sort of over-his-shoulder (remember I don't have a sense of smell) at what this homeless man in Beverly Hills could be ordering whilst pretending I was getting a better look at the menu.  I remember thinking, "maybe he got enough money for a whole good meal today" happy at the fact that he was in a food shop and not a liquor store... 

Then I saw it, I really, really saw it.  Like the golden halo eminating from that briefcase in "Pulp Fiction" but with their own hue of green, between the pages of a TV Guide were (no joke) a minimum of five $100 bills, each one in its own little page-section.  He kept flipping through the pages; he got to the 20's section, then the 10's, then the 5's, which he gave one of to the seemingly unsurprised Johnnie Rockets Beverly Hills worker.

Just like anyone else, he took back his change, put the coins in his pocket.  Closed up his TV Guide wallet, put it away.  Picked up his order and left the place. 

The strangest thing of all was the normalcy of how the situation developed.  One can only assume that this man was a regular...  Mr. Bum of Beverly Hills...

What about Benny

I have this way of torturing myself at times by trying to imagine certain situations to the point where I almost feel like they are real...  Not the healthiest of things to do, yet occasionally helpful to pre-judge decisions I have to make.

For example:  As I lay in bed last night, I wondered (as I often do, especially during the day) when or where our dog Benny's body would finally give out. 

[some of Benny's intestines have gotten into and packed in his lungs -- I believe it's what is called a hernia?-- and the operation to have them removed is too risky and expensive for us to take that chance.  We decided to let God have a say.]

I imagined him getting sick.  Or not being able to breathe, and not being able to help him...  or running desperately to the Pet Hospital for him to be put down to ease his suffering.  The problem is that I don't know how, when or what to expect when it finally happens.  I don't know how I will deal with it and the kids.  What if he's alone? 

That's when I came to the realization that it would probably be best for me to try to find him a the best possible living situation for a variety of reasons:  

He needs to be in a home where he has no access to sweets, or things that could be detrimental to his intestines.  Here, he steals it from the kids. 

He needs to be in a home where he can be fed soft foods in smaller servings 3 or so times a day.  Here, our Shepherd is extremely upset that we would (this late in his game) try to re-schedule the feedings he (the Shepherd) was the supervisor of.  He has been a little impatient with Benny lately.

He needs to be in a home where he can keep from getting too excited.  We have 2 kids and 3 dogs.  Enough said.

He shows no signs of being sick at all.  He loves, he plays, and he's one of the best dogs we've ever had, but he deserves a one-on-one relationship with a human to live his life to the fullest.  Here, is just a little more than one of the other dogs.  We love them all, but he deserves a little more.

Last but not least yet most selfish, I don't have the heart.  I know I couldn't handle it if something happened to him, which will most likely sooner than most dogs. 

So I will start looking.  I will make sure though, that he has the absolute best possible situation and would even consider to cover the costs to have him put down if it should get to that, I just don't want to have to do it myself.

Advice would be nice.  Just for some additional views...  thanks...

 

188 more shopping days left until my birthday.

Starting the countdown

Man... I haven't done this for *years*..!!!  But here it goes:

There are 190 (shopping) days left until my birthday!!!

I used to do this every year until sometime in my late twenties...  All it ever got me really was a bunch of hugs and love, which is what I was hoping for nevertheless... 

One of the best years was probably that surprise birthday party my Retix friends/co-workers gave me after I drove everyone insane through my humble self-advertising...  back in the 90's when I lived in L.A. the first time.  I heard that even a year later my birthday was still announced over the loudspeaker, after I was long gone...

Ah, the memories of Retix...  Geeks are really the best people to have as co-workers.  For an office-setting, that *had* to be the most fun I had working anywhere...  I mean, where else would the department head tell you flat out that the reason you were hired was your looks, and that:  "how often would we get a chance to work with an ex-Hawaiian Tropic girl?"  I should have probably cared more one way or the other about this matter-of-fact statement, but the "California" salary I was offered impressed me enough and I had zero other choices available at the time.

Retix, believe it or not, was probably the best work experience I ever had... Unfortunately not with the best mind I ever had...  but they put up with my lunacy and like all good things it came to an end... 

...to a "Medical Leave" sort of end.

I love Scrubs

That's all.

I just love the show "Scrubs".  Even after watching 4 in a row.

A Spoon & The Pretzel

I love to spoon. 

A wonderful thing about spooning is that you can time your breathing right so that it has the same rhythm as the person you are spooning with (this is especially true with a person near your size, as I've tried to do it with the kids and almost passed out).  

I like spooning when:

In need of empathy

In need of comfort

In need of emotional protection  

As with comparing apples and oranges, there is what I call the Pretzel. 

The Pretzel is great and I can only describe it as that physical intertwining with someone that if the two of you were to be frozen, they would have to cut off limbs in order to set you apart.    You see, I just have to write about the Pretzel, because I once told my mom that my husband and I pretzeled after an argument and that alone illustrated so much of our feelings it deserved its own journal entry.  

A pretzel is what you do:

After a hideous argument, when you have that need to become one again, and not two on opposite ends of the spectrum/bed.  

Before facing a great challenge ahead, when you must stand together

After being apart for a while

After a major crying fit  

So in one of my "Aha!" moments I learned through my own teaching that what my husband and I end up doing physically when we cuddle is just a projection of what we are feeling at the time...  which I thought was very interesting.  When we Pretzel we want to be like one.  

No matter how much additional thought I gave it, I haven't been able to come up with any other cleverly named positions. 

I'm just left with the: 

Don't-Even-Think-Of-Touching-Me-I'm-Sleeping-On-My-Belly-With-My-Face-Away-From-You-And-My-Arms-Tightly-By-My-Side position.

Which happens when:  

I'm reallllly pissed off, or 

I'm very tired.

G

This post is from 4/10

Last night we went to dinner with some friends to some L.A. restaurant.  While waiting for a table I see Randy Newman scurry by me towards the back, but I didn't realize it until he had already passed by.  So the rest of the night I struggled with thoughts that defied me between being "cool" or a complete blubbering idiot and try to talk to him.  More than just talking, I had a feeling of gratefulness for the music he has written, while not extremely poetic or deeply insightful as someone like say, U2, still helped me pull through the day many times.

Dinner was wonderful.  The drinks must have been even better.  So much so that when Simon (the guy from American Idol) was left alone at his table across from ours I felt compelled to wave to him...  he just seemed somewhat ill at ease by himself...  almost uncomfortable.  So out of kindness I waved, I guess Gin and Tonic and I decided he needed the attention.

As I got up to use the restroom, the amount of drinks I'd had became clearly evident.  Walking in heels has never been my forte, and something I don't much practice, so I became slightly self-conscious.  Blessings to the attendant that was keeping drunk-vigil by the steps.  I now believe that his sole job is to stand there to help people judge the distance betweeen their toes and every one of those three steps.

On my way back and after I had practiced balancing high heels and alcohol, I turned on the charm and told the Step Guardian that I would really like to meet Randy Newman.  I'm not sure which charm it was I turned on and given my condition I don't think I really had a conscious choice, but the SG started asking all the other waiters, the maitre'd, host, etc. culmitating with the Manager where Randy could have gone.  Nobody seemed to know, and those "in the know" said I'd seen the wrong person.  I ended up face-to-face with the manager who was absolutely convinced that Randy Newman did not enter the restaurant that night.  Although I tried to convince him otherwise, he was unmoved and ready to dismiss me...  Suddenly, I resorted to the last of all resorts:  We were in an Italian restaurant.  The manager was Italian.  He must like cars.  He must like Ferrari.  DING!!!  "you're Italian!" I said, "My husband spent a lot of time in Italy!  He used to race for Ferrari in Formula One!!" and then the final "Come, you should meet him!!!  Just remember to come get me if by any chance you happen to see Randy Newman".

So when Randy Newman was about to resurface from the restroom to leave the restaurant (I knew it), the ever-so-wonderful manager came to get me.  Actually, the manager and a couple of the waiters all came, very excited for me.

I got my chance.  I was able to tell Mr. Newman how his "I love L.A." had been at times an escape from Indy, how on dreary days it took me back to California and helped keep my hope of moving back some day.  Of course I also told him the kids love the songs he's written for Disney and he told me of a new kids' movie that is about racing, of all things.  At some point I took him to meet my husband and they chatted briefly and...

that's about all. 

I got to thank someone for the work they did.  I don't know why, but it makes me very happy to let a person know I get and appreciate their work.  I know L.A. has many bad things, but the way I feel about this place is summarized in that piece of Randy Newman's work. 

And I love it.

Jog Schmog

This is another "heavy" entry...  not very lighthearted and not very humorous.  But one I deem at least worthy of a try...

I went for what I call a "jog" this morning, trying to get rid of some of the shakes (funny, but it is now called "running" I noticed... am I the only one saying "jog"?). 

I stopped at someone's house to pull/steal this little ripe fruit growing on their tree to try it (great excuse to stop) and realized that out here we can grow all kinds of exotic fruit trees (this was a "wild pear"??).  Also, the roses grow to the size of a baby's head...  There are flowers of every kind, vines covering the hills and all types of natural opulence. 

Opulence... We have more, we want more.  I do feel fortunate to have the opportunity to admire all of this at any given moment, yet I think about how much we pay to live here to get all this. 

Something I read recently:  It was about the money spent in the U.S. in these times...  We are overly critical of the rich and celebrities for buying things like doggie dishes made of gold, diamonds dripping on things like underwear, vehicles that could climb a tree or go to combat... But, at the same time we ourselves are always pushing the envelope of our own financial limitations. 

It's all the same.  Whether you make a million a year or are barely struggling by, we always hope to spend the extra on things of status, desire and immediate satisfaction... 

Here is an idea that I already put to the test:  try to "walk in someone else's shoes" who is at a much lower income level than yourself.  Preferably those who can hardly afford to buy candy, or a meal at a restaurant, even a Subway sub...  Going out into the world for one to three, or even six months pretending to be the poorest of the poor. 

I am convinced this will give you all kinds of new insight.

Trying it did amazing things for me.  It made me realize that at times I had been someone I didn't like, someone I would normally criticize...  Buying things because they were "only 10 bucks" or "I'll just get it, if I don't like it I'll ditch it".  Indeed, what an ugly thing to say.

BUT the most amazing thing I gained was FREEDOM.  Freedom, from feeling conflicted as to what was the best new purchase, freedom from those "BUY NOW" sale advertisements,  freedom marketing gurus who no longer had this power over me, and the  freedom from having to read about the latest styles that I had to have to keep up, I now "couldn't afford them anyway".

In closing, I love living in California, and I am grateful that I'm here, where everyday seems happier than most.  And all in all, I'd rather live here and spend more than somewhere more affordable that I find depressing or limiting.  Yes, it may seem shallow of me to not find the beauty everywhere, but that's a little demon I will try to fight for the rest of my life.

Noah in 2005 - from the Web

  In the year 2005, the Lord came unto Noah, who was now living in the United States, and said, "Once again, the earth has become wicked and overpopulated, and I see the end of all flesh before me.

Build another Ark and save 2 of every living thing along with a few good humans."   He gave Noah the blueprints, saying, "You have 6 months to build the Ark before I will start the unending rain for 40 days and 40 nights."  

Six months later, the Lord looked down and saw Noah weeping in his yard -- but no Ark.

"Noah!" He roared, "I'm about to start the rain! Where is the Ark?"  

"Forgive me, Lord," begged Noah, "but things have changed.  

"I needed a building permit. I've been arguing with the inspector about the need for a sprinkler system.

My neighbors claim that I've violated the neighborhood zoning laws by building the Ark in my yard and exceeding the height limitations.

We had to go to the Development Appeal Board for a decision.   Then the Department of Transportation dended a bond be posted for the future costs of moving power lines and other overhead obstructions, to clear the passage for the Ark's move to the sea. I told them that the sea would be coming to us, but they would hear nothing of it.  

Getting the wood was another problem. There's a ban on cutting local trees in order to save the spotted owl. I tried to convince the environmentalists that I needed the wood to save the owls -- but no go!  

When Istarted gathering the animals, I got sued by an animal rights group.   They insisted that I was confining wild animals against their will.   They argued the accommodation was too restrictive, and it was cruel and inhumane to put so many animals in a confined space.  

Then the EPA ruled that I couldn't build the Ark until they'd conducted an environmental impact study on Your proposed flood.  

I'm still trying to resolve a complaint with the Human Rights Commission on how many minorities I'm supposed to hire for my building crew.   Migration and Naturalization is checking the green-card status of most of the people who want to work.  

The trades unions say I can't use my sons. They insist I have to hire only Union workers with Ark-building experience.  

To make matters worse, the IRS seized all my assets, claiming I'm trying to leave the country illegally with endangered species.   So, forgive me, Lord, but it would take at least 10 years for me to finish this Ark."  

Suddenly the skies cleared, the sun began to shine, and a rainbow stretched across the sky.   Noah looked up in wonder and asked,

"You mean you're not going to destroy the world?".  

"No," said the Lord. "The government beat me to it."

Fish Heads in My Head

I'm coming back around now...  and very happy to report that as of tomorrow I'm cutting off one of my meds completely, and starting to taper off another.  I'm also going to stop a third, but not sure yet, as I probably shouldn't do everything at once. 

So.  The old Jukebox in my head today (and yesterday) was playing this:  "Fish heads, fish heads, rolly polly fish heads; Fish heads, fish heads, eat'em up, YUM!!"  (HBO, circa 1980). 

I think that kids and geeks that put all kinds of crazy cartoons out there on the 'Net that are so en vogue don't have a thing on "Fish Heads".  That was one of the trippiest things I'd ever seen...  I miss The Gong Show, too...!  Oh, oh, oh, oh, what about that mini movie on HBO called "Close Encounters of the Nerd Kind".  Or "Not Necessarily the News"?  (Remember "Spap Oops").

I saw an x-ray technician at the vet's office wearing Vans shoes...  My high-school boyfriend wore them...    I didn't think I would be saying "we used to wear those" until I got to be at least 50, but 39??????? 

By the way, I'll be 40 in November.  Anyday now, I'll start the countdown...

Karaoke for the Deaf

This link will take you to a video that is one of the funniest things I've seen of late...  just another peek into my mind...  It reminds me of when comedy was still good, funny and innovative...

http://www.koreus.com/files/200502/hollowmen.html

My daughter, the valiant

I can’t stand to be indoors and I can barely live outside today.  My head is hung low and I feel the tension from it on my neck muscles.  But looking up is an impossibility.  The sky is waiting for me to look at it, to appreciate its grandness, its beauty, like its main reason for being is just for me to admire.  Yet my head won’t turn up, and I avoid it like I would avoid looking at someone I committed a sin against, yet only it and I know what that sin is…

There is so much guilt in my absence of mind and spirit.  There is guilt in not feeling alive, in feeling numb, miserable and alone.  Alone by choice because no one deserves what I can offer, which is much of nothing.  I remember as if it had happened long ago that there was a day with music in my step, yet it was only yesterday.  Now it isn’t, it’s all wrong, dark, like silent screaming in my head, the disorientation of a migraine, without the physical pain.

Last night I dreamt of evil, demons residing in an attic yet I went there anyway.  Even though they didn’t appear, the air was thick with fear and I remember feeling I had crossed my boundaries into their territory.  But I endured, and my courage for stepping through that attic exempted me from any attacks.  I was able to leave the place, but worried about those who lived in that house.

As I woke myself up by the sounds of my daughter whining, I thought thatmaybe she was sharing with me some of that fear.  Soon, I felt her walking into our room, but she just stood by my side, looking at me, holding her dog as if it were a stuffed toy.  She just stared at me.  I asked her what was wrong and without speaking she leaned down and kissed me twice.  When she straightened up she just stood there looking at me again.  I felt somewhat scared.  I asked her if she needed anything, but she said no, just standing there, looking at me.  Then I asked her to just get in bed with me so she did.  I couldn?t stop asking her if she was o.k. but she just went to sleep.

I gathered that she had been sleepwalking, as this morning she had no recollection of anything that happened hours before, but it was somewhat eerie nevertheless?  I shouldn?t have doubted for a second that she came to me to save me from any more evil dreams, but it isn?t easy to shake off fear when in the face of possible evil.  Even if just in a dream.

I don?t know if that triggered my bad day.  I know that when evil strikes I become nothing, I shrink, I fall into a dark endless pit.  Maybe I shouldn?t have searched Google the night before for prophetic stories about the battle between Good and Evil.   Maybe doing that is what some people would consider ?opening a door? to the negative, that I should leave it be.  Maybe I think too much.  And exactly that is what tells me that I will drive people away from me, that I will alienate myself by sharing these thoughts, this lunacy that keeps me from thinking that it?s ever going to stop and that I will ever be able to look at the sky at any given moment, without a thought or hesitation.

Fortunately for me, I have a child that was not afraid to get her doggie, come down from her bunk bed and rescue me from my dreams.  I just wish that that was all my mind needed to know.